I Loved Lucy.
Once upon a time, I was in love with a girl that didn’t love me. Lucy had a laugh that would light up a room. Infectious and genuine.
A good friend of mine use to call her “The light” with how she came off. She just had this glow. Well, before I met Lucy I was in a relationship with a wonderful girl. But Lucy overshadowed everything.
Needless to say, and not just because of “The Light,” that relationship ended. I turned on all the charm to get Lucy. And failed. I’m sure she had made up her mind when we first met that I was not the one. I think I was too funny. I think I had low self-esteem and it showed in my body language. I think I failed the first of her shit tests. And I think she liked white guys.
Anyway, my happiest moment is wrapped in the happiest year of my life. It was after we had graduated, and I never thought I would see her again. But she ended up staying around. And, on my mother, I spent every day I could at her house. We were best friends. Even just being around her was enough. One year as her best friend was better than so many other romantic relationships.
But I got greedy. I wanted more and was frustrated. She knew I loved her, and I just didn’t know why she didn’t love me. So, I ignored her. Suddenly. Immediately. I was cold. And she called. I was watching Love Actually, actually when she called. I was watching, in my kitchen, bare feet, on a small tv. I almost didn’t answer.
It was enticing. Warm. Intimate. I could almost feel her through the phone. I was honest. I opened my heart in all ways. Naked to her. She was opening to me. I grabbed my keys, no shoes, no wallet, and drove over there. My feet got hot from the pedal. We were still on the phone. She was a three-minute car ride away and I was all love and desire.
She heard me knock on the door from both the phone and inside her apartment, her apartment that always smelt of sage. And she laughed and asked, “Did you just knock at my door?”
“Yes, I had to come.”
She opened the door, and it caught on the tiny chain.
I see her eyes. There is something wild warm and direct in them. She is smiling like the Devil and I love it. She looks down at my feet. “You drove over here with no shoes on?”
“Yes,” I said. “Now let me in.”
Smiling, she closes the door and opens it again, no chain. I rush in and kiss her, and we never made it to the bedroom. We made love in that hallway, that old hallway that smelled of sage. It was the best hallway in the world. I wrote a poem about it.
